I didn’t wake up to give you a cuddle this morning.

We didn’t eat our breakfast together this morning.

I didn’t hurry to get showered and ready for the day so that I can take you out for your morning walk.

We did that all on Saturday.

On Saturday I felt you lying by my feet when I woke up.

On Saturday I gave you your breakfast.

On Saturday we took you to walk along the sea front one last time.

As usual, you were on the look out for other dogs that needed telling off. You barked, and you showed off with the bull kick of your back legs which you love to do. You sniffed around like you always do.

But you were tired. Instead of pulling on the lead, you sat and stared into the morning sun.

We carried you to a bench and the three of us sat and watched the runners, the walkers, the families and the other dogs start their day.

Through moments of clarity, I know that there was only ever going to be one outcome, but now that it’s done, I wish we’d waited. Just one more day. One more chance to take you for another walk. One more chance to cuddle and breathe in your puppy smell. One more chance to go on our adventures together. One more day of hearing you snoring behind me as I busy myself with work. One more chance to play with your toys and see you defiantly take possession, making it more of a challenge than a game.

Our home is lonely without you. We’re lonely without you.

For 10 years you’ve been my constant companion and I feel like I’m missing a physical part of myself.

I’d take back all the times I hurried you to do your business because we were outside in the cold and rain. I’d take back all the times I got frustrated because I had to carry you along with all my gear and computer bags and arrive at our destination looking and feeling haggered from the weight of it all. I’d take back all the worries I had about your rising medical bills. I’d take that all back if I could, and I’m sorry I had those thoughts.

You were more than just a pet to me. You were part of me. Part of my identity.

I’ll miss your greeting when I come home. I’ll miss our evenings cuddled on the couch together. I’ll miss our walks and days out together. Most of all, I’ll miss you just being near me.

Mommy and Daddy loved and still love you so much. Our days won’t be the same without you.

I can still remember the day you made us a family. We weren’t planning to find and take home a furkid that day or any other day. But there you were, and from that moment on, for the next 10 years we were a unit of 3. I’m so grateful that you found us. You were the most unique, spirited little creature I’d ever had the privilege of loving. I was constantly amazed that you never let your small size be an excuse to back down from a challenge. Thank you for that lesson.

It was tough to see your strength weaken over the last few months. Especially these last few weeks when you couldn’t walk with as much gusto, you couldn’t bark without becoming short of breath. It was tough to see the spirit inside being hampered by an ailing body.

We weren’t prepared for the speed at which you went. I feel like I didn’t have chance to say a final goodbye. But perhaps that’s a good thing. Perhaps that means I’ll be seeing you again. Until then, I’ll look through our photos from the last 10 years and I’ll remember all the laughter, kindness, company, adventures and love we’ve shared.

You’re sleeping now. Sleep well, my girl.

I love you. We love you.